


In My Life

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His life is dangerous to those around him, and Duncan must deal with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Moderate adult content, language, violence, DM/M slash is implied, response to the Highlandgirl June-July 2004 picture challenge, thanks go to faile02 for beta help and to Jubie for being the inspirational artist; In My Life lyrics are by the Beatles and are used only with great respect, and no money is made from this venture.

I pulled the dark linen slacks up my legs, over my thighs and buttocks, leaving the fly undone until I could tuck my shirt neatly inside. Removing the shirt from its wooden hanger, I paused to stroke my fingers across the fine silk before sliding my arms into the sleeves. The material was soft and cool as it slid across my chest, ghosting against my nipples with a sweet caress, causing them to peak from the sensitive touch. I closed my eyes and shivered, imagining the warm glide of fingertips instead. Methos' fingertips: warm and knowing as they tease at my nipples and stroke across responsive nerve endings.

But, Methos wasn't here. Methos wasn't going to be here. The thought seared through my mind and I felt my stomach clench, even as the yearning for his touch burned in my soul. I opened my eyes and clenched my jaw in determination. He's gone and it was time my life moved on without him. In the beginning, I was hurt and bitter. But now I could no longer sustain the anger, finding it just within my grasp, only to be quickly replaced with an overwhelming grief. I've lost other lovers before, Tessa being the most recent and painful. But nothing has torn me asunder like this. Methos--I never expected to lose Methos.

I inserted each button into its corresponding buttonhole with meticulous care, the cool hard edge of the buttons biting into my fingertips when I pressed a little too hard. I tucked the delicate fabric into my slacks and pulled up the zipper, going through the motions without thought while my mind fought the painful memories.

Methos bought this shirt for me just for this occasion. He said he liked the way the stark white highlighted my dark hair and skin tone, but I didn't look in the mirror, unable to bear the sight of my own misery reflected back at me.

I picked up my brush and slowly pulled the bristles through my hair. I started to leave my hair down the way Methos always liked me to when we went out for the evening. But, then I shuddered when a pain as sharp as a knife settled in my gut. "Damn you, Methos," I growled to myself, and grabbed a silver celtic clasp to tie it back instead.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. When Methos was with me, I frequently burned candles, giving the loft a gentle fragrance of herbs or sandalwood. I haven't lit a candle in almost a month, and all I smelled now was the clean scent of my own soap and aftershave.

Opening my eyes and looking around, I shivered when a sudden chill pimpled my skin with goose bumps. The air was cool. I hadn't bothered to turn the heat on. At least now, the chill on the outside matched the cold empty space aching inside my chest.

Somehow, I've managed to get through each day, but I can't stop the memories. They keep running through my mind over and over like a movie that I can't turn off.

  


**~~~~~**  


  


I slipped my katana into the hidden sheath inside my coat and set it aside. My throat was tight and dry, a normal condition lately, and I pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. I contemplated the bottle of Scotch beckoning me from the shelf in the living room, but discarded the notion quickly. My mood was already much too morose and I had a long drive downtown ahead of me.

I pulled on my coat and checked the placement of my sword one last time before leaving. Throwing my empty water bottle in the trash before entering the lift, I reached inside my coat pocket, pausing when my fingers brushed across my theater ticket. Two tickets. I pulled them out.

A theater ticket. Quite an innocuous thing, really. _Then why did it hurt so much?_

Methos had been bugging me for months to purchase the tickets once he saw the announcement that the play was coming to the Seacouver Orpheum.

**"AND IN THE END -- The Death and Life of John Lennon."**

I wasn't surprised that he was excited. Methos adored the Beatles -- John Lennon particularly. He had all their albums -- carefully packaged away in their original jackets. He still brought them out on occasion to play on the turntable he insisted I buy. He had the CDs, too, of course, but only shook his head in amusement when I asked why he still preferred the records. In truth, I had my own collection of albums in one of my storage facilities. Not the Beatles. But, it was still a fairly extensive collection from some of my favorite artists over the years. I wasn't always a fan of opera. But, I'd never tell Methos that.

The Beatles? That was a surprise. The Rolling Stones would have been more his style. Joplin, Hendrix, Morrison. In fact, when we first met, hadn't he said that he was the only person alive who'd been on the stage with both Caesar and the Stones? I knew he liked Springsteen, Zeppelin, Guns N' Roses, and a slew of other groups and singers I've never heard of. My lover is certainly an enigma.

 _My ex-lover._

****

**Six Weeks Ago**

  


I pulled up the gate to the lift, grateful to be home. It had been a long day, not that I minded. I loved my job doing freelance antique appraisals. I jabbed the elevator button, smiling when I felt my lover's distinctive buzz the moment I began to ascend to the loft. As I neared the top floor, my smile quickly disappeared and I cringed. Music was blaring from the stereo and Methos was gyrating in the middle of the room, his own voice harmonizing with the recording. The very loud recording.

> >   
>  _You say you want a revolution_  
>  _Well you know_  
>  _We all want to change the world_  
>  _You tell me that it's evolution_  
>  _Well you know_  
>  _We all want to change the world_  
>  _But when you talk about destruction_  
>  _Don't you know you can count me out  
>  _ _Don't you know it's gonna be alright  
>  _ _Alright alright  
>  _

"Methos!" I attempted to yell over the music. I frowned, irritated, because I knew Methos could feel my buzz and he was purposely ignoring my presence.

I spied the coffee table, which he had obviously pushed out of the way to make more room. I swerved around it to reach the stereo, flipped off the power, and turned, my arms folded firmly across my chest. I glared at my lover.

It took a moment before Methos realized he no longer had music. He turned to face me with an impish grin. "Maac," he complained. "You turned off my music."

"You call that music?" I asked incredulously.

"It's the Beatles. Of course it's bloody music." He kissed me quickly on the lips while reaching around me to hit the power button.

"It's too loud," I complained.

Methos shrugged. "I'll turn it down. Here...." He pushed me aside gently and pressed a few buttons. A new song filled the loft, less loudly, and I admitted defeat.

"Okay. I can live with that."

"Good." Methos folded me into his arms, and with his hips swaying in a gentle rhythm, he began to sing.

> >   
>  _There are places I'll remember_  
>  _All my life though some have changed_  
>  _Some forever not for better_  
>  _Some have gone and some remain_  
>  _All these places have their moments_  
>  _With lovers and friends I still can recall  
>  _ _Some are dead and some are living  
>  _ _In my life I've loved them all  
>  _

I held him close, breathing in his scent, and thought of warm nights and gentle kisses. Methos' voice was soft in my ear as he sang the words, his hips swaying in time with the music. I moved with him and hugged him tighter.

> >   
>  _Though I know I'll never lose affection_  
>  _For people and things that went before_  
>  _I know I'll often stop and think about them  
>  _ _In my life I love you more  
>  _ _In my life I love you more  
>  _

  


  
**~~~~~**  


  


I put my key into the ignition and started my car. I had decided to leave the top of the T-Bird down, even though the fall air was definitely nippy. It was still daylight, although it would be dark once I left the theater. I would put the top up when I parked.

The steering wheel was hard and cold to my touch. I didn't mind. The wind in my face, and the hard vinyl in my hands all helped to center me and keep my mind in the here and now.

Fuck. Who was I kidding? It was only a few weeks ago when I drove the T-Bird down the same streets, my heart in my throat when I made that last turn and saw the quickening energy rip into the night sky. It felt like the end of the world.

  


**One Month Ago**  


  


I threw my coat across the couch and ran for the phone. I sprinted across the room, out of breath, but smiling as I picked up the receiver.

"MacLeod."

"Duncan MacLeod?" The woman's voice was deep, but pleasant, and completely unknown to me.

"This is MacLeod," I returned, feeling the smile slip from my face.

"So, I finally get to speak to the man who killed my lover," the she said smoothly.

I felt the hairs lift on the back of my neck. My stance shifted immediately, my casual posture gone as I stood at my full height, tense and ready for battle.

"Who is this?" I demanded.

"Do you remember Jonathan Lambert, MacLeod?"

My breath hitched and my pulse sped up as my body responded with a rush of adrenaline into my bloodstream. I remembered Lambert: the son of a bitch who had secretly worked for the Nazis during World War II; the bastard who had personally seen to the torture and deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, of Jews. The low life whose head fell to my blade just one month ago, leaving me shaken and ill for several days afterward.

"I remember," I replied tersely to my caller.

"He was my lover, MacLeod. Do you know how it feels to have your lover taken away from you?"

Unfortunately, I did, and I felt the bile rise in my throat with the memories. Before I could answer, the mysterious caller continued, her voice now hard and thick with anger.

"You will find out, MacLeod. You'll know before the day is out. I'll have your lover's quickening, just as you have Jonathan's."

The phone went dead and I felt my body become heavy with icy dread. My legs felt leaden with weight and fear filled my chest, gripping me with an unrelenting hand.

Methos!

The shock pushed me into motion, and I jerked on my coat and sprang from the room. I had to reach Methos before my caller did.

I jumped out of the Thunderbird, cursing the Fates for Immortality as I ran to the man kneeling on the ground, his body doubled over in agony as he vomited.

"Methos." I pulled off my coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. Methos seemed to retch forever and I held onto him, keeping him from collapsing until he heaved one last time before deflating against my chest.

I helped him to the car and pushed him into the passenger seat. Methos closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the seat, not moving or speaking when I buckled him in.

I got in and looked at him in concern. "I locked up your truck. We can pick it up tomorrow."

I studied my partner worriedly when I didn't receive a response. Methos was deathly pale and starting to tremble. He had never taken quickenings well, but they were becoming increasingly more torturous. And, unfortunately, since he had committed to our relationship, he'd found himself in that inevitable position far too often.

I reached over and took his hand, stunned when I found it to be ice cold. I quickly turned on the heat and hurried home, Methos' hand still clasped tightly in my own.

We made it upstairs with him leaning against me heavily for support. I helped him to the bathroom and quickly stripped us both down, then stepped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as we could stand.

Methos leaned against the tiles and let me wash him. He still hadn't spoken, but at least the retching had subsided. I dried him off and helped him to bed.

We spent the night with him pressed tightly in the protective comfort of my arms. He continued to tremble, however, and it was well until morning before either of us drifted off to sleep.

  


****

**~~~~~**

  


I pulled up to the theater and parked. I was thankful that I had thought ahead and left early enough to get a good parking space. I heard that tonight's performance had been sold out. The starring role was being played by an actor named Valentine Pelka. Methos liked his work, but for some reason he always made me feel uneasy. Most likely, he simply reminded me of someone I used to know. In any case, I was here for my lover tonight.

I put up the top to the Thunderbird and got out of the car. Turning towards the Orpheum, I slipped my hands into my coat pockets. My fingers brushed against the tickets and I stopped to pull them out -- and it all came rushing back.

****  


**Three Weeks Ago  
**

  


"I can't do this Mac. Not any more." Methos announced as he sorted through his belongings.

"Methos. You knew how it would be." I shadowed his movements as he packed, trying desperately to reason with him.

Methos turned around to face me, his lips pressed together in a hard line. He took a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were full of sorrow. 

"Duncan," he started gently.

I felt my heart constrict in my chest and I reached out to caress his cheek.

Methos placed his hand over mine. "Duncan. I can't do this anymore. It's not you. You know that," he added quickly when I started to interrupt.

"Then what?" I let the pain bleed into my voice.

"I can't take the quickenings. Every day I stay with you, I risk either losing my head or having to take another quickening."

"You're always at risk, Methos. We all are." I slid my hand to the nape of Methos' neck and tried to pull him closer. He tensed. I knew I couldn't push him. He'd simply run. I dropped my hand and stepped back in defeat.

"Mac, I went two hundred years without a challenge. I was never under the illusion that I was safe. None of us are. Kalas proved that. But opening myself up to this ...." He bowed his head. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was praying. Finally, he shook his head and looked up to meet my gaze. "I'm sorry. You know I love you. But, for my own sanity and my own survival, I can't stay."

"Methos, please don't do this." 

"I love you, Duncan. Please understand," he begged. There were tears in his eyes.

"I do understand. But ... dammit. Don't leave me," I croaked out around the lump lodged in my throat. If Methos didn't leave soon, I'd make a complete fool of myself.

"I'm so sorry," Methos whispered at last, choking on a sob as he turned, grabbed his suitcase and practically ran out the door.

  


****

**~~~~~**

  


I found my seat in the second row and sat down. I'd called in personal favors to make sure we got good seats. The house lights were still up and I looked around. There were several people milling about, dressed in varying degrees of casual elegance.

The clatter of people, the buzz of their idle chatter was all around me. Everyone had perfumed themselves and all the dizzying odors were assailing my nose and leaving me slightly nauseous. Damn. Maybe this was just a bad idea.

Usually I loved the theater. But not tonight. I pulled the extra ticket out of my pocket and rubbed my fingers over the smooth paper. _'Damn it, Methos,'_ I thought angrily. _'Why did you have to leave?'_

I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated on my breathing. The anger didn't help and I felt it dissipate as quickly as it had appeared. Opening my eyes, I looked at the ticket I was still stroking idly with my fingertips, and wondered briefly if by doing so -- and wishing hard enough -- it would bring my lover back to me.

The house lights began to dim, and all I could think about was the empty seat next to mine. It never even occurred to me to return the ticket for a refund. 

The play was about to start when I felt an immortal presence. It sang across my nerve endings like fire, and I leapt up from my seat and grabbed my coat. Not tonight, I told myself angrily. Whoever was out there, not tonight.

I felt the weight of my katana at my side and clenched my jaw in anger. Why the hell couldn't they let me live in peace? Why must everything I love always be destroyed by the Game?

I rushed outside, angry and determined, my coat flapping around my legs with every stride.

Then I saw him. Sprawled against the Thunderbird. He straightened when he saw me, but otherwise did not move. He was wearing dark slacks and the green silk shirt I bought him for this very night. God, he looked wonderful.

My first reaction was disbelief--then all the residual hurt and anger came flooding back. I wanted to hit him -- to slam him up against my car and shake him until his teeth rattled. To demand an explanation ... to hug him so tightly it would take his breath away. To kiss him into oblivion. To love him, damn it.

The relief was overwhelming and I couldn't help myself. A grin broke out and suddenly I was all but running towards him. I felt all the anger and hurt feelings from the last month float away, leaving me light headed and giddy. Then he was moving and we were in each other's arms.

His mouth was hot and demanding. He tasted of toothpaste and something sweet. And Methos. I felt the glide of his tongue and met it with my own. So good. The heat of his body was burning me through my clothes, and I wrapped my arms around him to bring it closer. He moaned into my mouth. I didn't want to break our kiss, but eventually even I had to breathe.

I looked into hazel green eyes and grinned. His lips were slightly swollen from my assault. He smiled, crinkling his eyes, and his entire face lit up.

"You're back." I sounded much more composed than I felt.

"I'm back." He reached up to caress my jaw.

I leaned into the caress and closed my eyes. The moment was magic and I didn't want it to end.

"Mac."

His hand dropped away and I opened my eyes. Oh well. "Methos," I returned. I was never very articulate around this man, it seemed. "Why?"

"Why am I back?" He reached up and traced my bottom lip with his finger.

"Yes," I answered softly. 

"Because," he said with a smile, "in my life I love you more."

 

_Finis_  


**Author's Note:**

> In 2006, the play, "AND IN THE END - The Death and Life of John Lennon", was cast with Valentine Pelka in the role of John Lennon. Highlander fans will remember Valentine for his role as Kronos in seasons 5-6. When we had the HLWW convention in Leeds, followed by a trip to Scotland, Valentine was performing in Australia. I don't think we've ever been able to get all four Horsemen together for a con yet. 
> 
> Edited January 26, 2017


End file.
